


Simple Changes

by NotGonnaMakeIt



Series: Mage Wardens [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Acceptance, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Past Abuse, Plot Twists, Rating May Change, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotGonnaMakeIt/pseuds/NotGonnaMakeIt
Summary: Wherein Duncan finds two worthy recruits upon his visit to the Circle. One a battlemage, the other a healer. Exactly how much will an additional mage warden change the course of the Blight?Story follows the last three Grey Wardens, throughout the Blight and beyond.





	1. Prologue: The Circle of Magi

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a rewrite of one of my old stories from fanfiction.net. I hope you enjoy and leave me a review!

Irving had been First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi for many, many years. For almost as long as Greagoir had been Knight-Commander; around twenty years, now. He’d been the witness of almost every single mage child to enter the Circle. Most often by force.

There were two sorts of mage children brought to the Circle, Irving learned early on. They were the sort that people shunned the moment they’d shown any magical ability, who had nowhere else to turn and genuinely needed protection. These children were often grateful for the home, the instruction, and the protection the Circle offered them. These children were the easier ones to teach, as those who wished to be there were eager to learn.

Then, there were the children who were taken by force. Particularly with families who were better off, those who had money. Noble families especially.

Noble families didn’t often have children with magical talent, but when they did, it was often ugly.

Daylen Amell was a perfect example of that.

The Amell family was a noble family that was extremely powerful in the Free Marches, and had coin enough to have influence in Ferelden. So when Revka Amell’s eldest son - a boy of only six years at the time - was taken by the Circle, there was an uproar.

It was early on in his time as First Enchanter, but he still remembered it well. Irving lost track of the amount of letters Revka and her family wrote to the Circle and to Irving, the amount of coin they offered to pay, the amount of threats he received. Revka begged him to release her son back to him, and Daylen begged him to give him back to his mother.

He was forced to deny them both, as he always had. Though it gave him no pleasure, he was bound by the rules of the Circle. No mage could leave until they’d finished their Harrowing, and even then, it was regulated and controlled by the Chantry.

But when he told the young boy this, he simply wiped his nose, and asked when he could start classes.

Now, Irving would chuckle at the memory. So determined to find his mother again, he wanted to be ready for his Harrowing as soon as he was able. A commendable attitude, most certainly.

Not only did Daylen have the will, but he showed a remarkable mind for magic, particularly for one so young. He excelled in all classes except healing, and that was a class most mages did not bother to take anyway.

Without it being his intention, Daylen quickly became the best apprentice of his age.

At least he was until a young elf arrived in the Circle, two years after Daylen.

A sickly, scrawny child taken from the Alienage of Denerim, barely able to speak and clearly fearful of humans. Avina Surana’s arrival was one Irving remembered, and would always remember; after her mother’s death, the child had attacked those who had attempted to retrieve her body. She refused to speak to him until they offered her a bowl of hot soup and a small set of blue robes. Only then did she say ‘thank you’, but even then she didn’t give her name or speak to the other children. She only spoke to Irving, Greagoir, and Wynne. Those who were older, and had shown her kindness.

Somehow, though, despite this, within two weeks she was not only catching up to the other students, but overtaking them in classes like Creation and Spirit. Though the two students never interacted - Daylen was a charming, extroverted boy while Avina feared humans - their academic rivalry was known throughout the Circle.

Irving considered it very lucky to have such bright students studying under him. He hoped this was a good sign; perhaps if these two did great things, it would encourage other young mages to follow their example.

Fear still ran rampant in Ferelden regarding magic. Often it was hated and scorned because of nothing more than ignorance. Ignorance could only be changed by example, by teaching, by showing that not only were mages people, but they were just as much soldiers and protectors and healers as any without magic.

Years went on, and just as it became Irving’s fifteenth year as First Enchanter, Daylen underwent his Harrowing at age 17. And passed with flying colors.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to visit his mother. She had gone missing, leaving her children and husband behind to simply vanish from her heartbreak. He supposed it was easier now for Daylen; he hadn’t seen her in many years, but it was still hard on a young man who’d wanted nothing more than to see his mother again for the past twelve years.

Still, he was a fine member of the Circle. A helpful and kind boy, proven to be a trustworthy mentor and teacher. Still, Avina avoided him as she did almost every other student.

That is, apart from Jowan.

Though Jowan had come to the Circle sooner and was older than her by a few years, the two were nearly inseparable, especially in their teenage years. This was made simpler by the fact that Avina kept up with his classes, despite being younger.

It was good that she was at least connecting with someone around her age, even if it was just one student. Even if that one student was Jowan, who Irving could already tell was jealous and hard on himself when it came to other, more advanced students. Students like Avina.

It only took another five years for her to become ready for her Harrowing, at age eighteen.

The very night before the Commander of the Grey, Duncan, arrived at the Circle Tower looking for recruits.

Irving had never been more prepared for a visit from the Grey Wardens. Duncan required mages, and this was a perfect opportunity for them to prove their worth, put their power to good use.

Duncan reacted with interest when he brought up the few mages that stood out most within the Circle; the younger of the mages, as most of the Senior mages had already gone to Ostagar.

“Daylen Amell, you said, finished his Harrowing five years ago?”

Irving nodded with pride. “Indeed. At the age of seventeen. One of the youngest mages to go through the Harrowing.”

"Interesting," Duncan murmured. "I'd like to meet this young man, and perhaps some of the others, if it is no trouble."

"Of course, Duncan,” Irving agreed. Perhaps he’d conscript others, truly bolstering the kings army with a more impressive gathering of mages.

"What?" Greagoir cut in. "Many have already gone to Ostagar - Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort-”

"Your own?" Irving gave a disbelieving chuckle. "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

After all, they were not the only ones capable and trustworthy when it came to defending Ferelden. During a Blight, the Grey Wardens needed as many mages as they could get their hands on.

Greagoir's eyes flashed in anger. "How _dare_ you suggest -"

"Gentlemen, please," Duncan interrupted. Irving often forgot how quickly he and Greagoir were slipping into arguments these days… it seemed to be getting worse the whiter their hair became.

Duncan gestured to the door. "Irving, I believe someone is here to see you."

He turned, and there she was.

The years had been kind to the child. She’d grown to be quite beautiful; soft light brown hair, coiled about the back of her head in braids, smattering of freckles over her flawless skin… Though she was still slender and delicate in appearance, a maturity had begun to show itself in her icy blue eyes. She was young, but wise for her years. One could almost tell just from one look at her.

She stopped in the doorway, warily looking between Greagoir and Duncan’s unfamiliar face. “... You sent for me, First Enchanter?”

“Ah, yes,” Irving agreed, waving her forward. He was pleased she’d arrived during his talk with Duncan; now he had the chance to introduce them. “Our newest sister in the Circle. Come, child.”

Duncan raised his eyebrows, slightly interested as she stepped forwards. “And this is…?”

Irving laid a hand on her shoulder. “Avina Surana. Our finest young healer and spirit spellcasting specialist.”

Greagoir sighed, obviously displeased but unwilling to argue further in front of a student. "Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later." And with a polite nod to Duncan and Avina, he left the room.

Irving nodded back before turning his attention back to them. “Now, where was I… oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens.”

Avina stared, almost as if in awe. He couldn’t blame her; none of them had ever seen any of the Wardens in person, but the tales of the Wardens of the past were well known even in their secluded tower. “Well met, Duncan.”

"You've heard of the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar," he explained. Secretly, he hoped Avina would express interest in this topic. Perhaps encourage Duncan’s interest in recruiting her.

“I have.” She crossed her arms. “It’s said a Blight is coming.”

"The darkspawn are invading, and we need all the help we can get," Duncan told her, "especially from the Circle. They have formed into a horde in the Kokari Wilds and threaten to invade north into the valley. I fear if we don't drive them back, it may be another Blight."

"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her."

Duncan met his eyes. "We live in troubled times, my friend."

"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times," Irving responded, then turned his attention back to Avina. "Your Harrowing is behind you, and your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."

She bowed her head, but he could tell she wasn’t pleased by this. "Thank you, First Enchanter."

"I'm sorry," says Duncan, raising an eyebrow. "What is this 'phylactery'?"

"Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials," Irving explained. Special vials that would lead the templars to her if she ever fled the Circle.

"So they can be hunted if they turn apostate," Duncan understood.

Hunted, and murdered or dragged back to the Circle in chains.

Irving sighed. "We have few choices. The gift of magic is often looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly.” He looked to Avina. “You, my dear, have done just this. I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia." He handed her the bundle. "Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

She said nothing as she accepted the items, glancing from Irving back to Duncan as if she had something she wanted to ask him.

“Before you go, however, while you are in the mages quarters, would you send Daylen Amell to me? We wish to speak to him.”

She nodded, and left Irving’s office quickly.

Duncan watched her go. “She seems like a bright young girl.”

“She is,” Irving agreed instantly, “and quite talented, as well. I’m sure she has quite the future ahead of her.”

He could hope.

* * *

 

Daylen arrived at his office not long after Avina had left, greeting Duncan and Irving politely as he did.

A young man of 22, Daylen was tall and fair-skinned with thick dark hair that hung loosely over his forehead. He was lean but in good shape; Irving had heard many of the apprentice girls claim he was handsome in their eyes.

“Daylen Amell,” Irving introduced him proudly, clapping a hand over his back. 

Daylen smiled back at the due praise, reaching out to shake Duncan’s hand. “I understand you’re recruiting for the Grey Wardens, Ser Duncan.”

Duncan chuckled. “Just Duncan, please. But you are correct, I hoped to recruit as many mages as are capable and willing.”

Daylen nodded. “I would be honored to be given the chance to fight for Ferelden.”

“Irving tells me your skills would be invaluable to me. If he believes your skills are sufficient, I will be glad to have you join us, should you choose to.”

“I’ll prepare, then,” Daylen told him. “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time, Daylen. I had one more thing I wished to look into while I was here.”

 


	2. The Ostagar Encampment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair meets Avina.

 

**Alistair**

Why was it always Alistair who got stuck with the jobs like this? Why couldn't he, I dunno, prepare with the other soldiers? Run supplies? Poison test the cheese?

But no. It seemed the revered mother would rather he be a toad. From the way she looked at him, he wouldn't be surprised.

Sending messages to mages via former templar Grey Warden wasn’t the kindest way to send word from the Chantry. That was blatantly obvious. Still, it wasn’t Alistair’s fault. He was doing his best. "I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence."

It didn't matter that he was being completely polite; the mage was having none of it. "What her reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me. I am busy helping the Grey Wardens- by the king's orders, I might add."

“Should I have asked her to write a note?” He asked cheekily.

The mage’s scowl deepened. “Tell her reverence I will not be harassed in this manner!”

Alistair was having fun with it now. “Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message.”

“Your glibness does you _no_ credit.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the figure of a person, just standing to the side, watching the interaction. Were they gathering a crowd? How lovely. It was so nice how everyone in camp stuck together.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well! I was even going to name one of my children after you," Alistair replied, mock sadly. "The _grumpy_ one."

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, fool,” he snapped, brushing Alistair aside and storming past the woman who’d stopped beside them to watch.

As Alistair turned, he got a better look at her.

Brown braids, blue eyes, pointed ears… an elf, most certainly. He wasn’t surprised; there were many elves running about. Most of them servants, few of them warriors. This one didn’t look like a warrior… She carried no weapon, and wore no armor. Still, it would be rude to assume she was a servant based solely on that.

“You know,” he said, taking a few steps towards her, “one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”

Her brief look of confusion quickly morphed into a small, wry smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“It’s like a party! We could all stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about.” He paused for a moment, remembering what he was meant to be doing after delivering the message. Either she was a messenger, or maybe-

“We haven’t met, have we?” He asked. “I don’t suppose… you’d happen to be another mage?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that would make your day worse?”

“Not worse, it’s just… I tend to make mages nervous. And nervous mages make me nervous. I don’t want to be a toad, I like myself the way I am.”

“I hate to make you nervous, but I am indeed a mage.”

Alistair blinked. “Really? You don’t look like a mage -” not that she wasn’t dressed properly, or that mages were terribly unattractive, or anything… Maker, that sounded better in his head. “- That is, I mean… How interesting.” But, this was what he was supposed to be doing, yea? Duncan had sent word to greet the new mage recruits.

“I know who you are,” he realized. “You’re one of Duncan’s new recruits, from the Circle of Magi. I should have recognized you right away, I apologize.”

She waved him off. “I suppose you must be Alistair, then.”

“Did Duncan talk about me? Nothing bad, I hope.”

She glanced at him, her expression deadpan. “Only that you’re the youngest Warden. I’ll have to ask him for whatever dirt he has on you later.”

Alistair laughed nervously, guessing - or hoping, really - she was joking. “Yes, well, I’m Alistair, the new Grey Warden… as you know. As the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you while you prepare for the joining.”

She frowned slightly. “I can’t prepare on my own?”

He bowed his head slightly in understanding. “I know, I felt the same way when I did this. Unfortunately, they don’t give us much choice.”

“Hm.” She turned her gaze away, either thinking or irritated.

She didn’t appear to be very talkative. But Alistair couldn’t stand to sit in silence; he had to say something. “You know… there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is.”

“Oh?” That got her attention. Somehow that made him more nervous than the silence. “And you want more women in the Wardens?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He flashed her a smile. “Not that I’m some drooling lecher… or anything _please stop looking at me like that.”_

She looked away again, but she seemed as though she was trying not to smile. He took that as a victory.

“I’m curious,” Alistair continued, “have you ever actually fought darkspawn before?”

It was something usually asked before the test. If they didn’t know what they were getting into, it was a good idea to warn them.

“I haven’t,” she admitted, "I'm assuming you have?"

Alistair nodded. “I have. When I fought my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how… monstrous it was. Can’t say I’m looking forward to fighting another.” Which was kind of funny, considering it was his duty now. For the rest of his life. “Anyhow, whenever you’re ready, we should head back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.

"That argument I saw... what was it about?"

Damn. He was hoping she wouldn’t ask about that. "With the mage? The Circle is here at the king's request and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just _love_ letting the mages know how unwelcome they are. Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position; I was once a templar."

She inhaled slightly, frowning. He wondered, briefly, if this made her uncomfortable about traveling with him. Hopefully she just wouldn't take as much offence as the other mage. "You were a mage-hunter?"

"Not... that that's all templars do, but yes, I guess I was at that. The Chantry raised me until Duncan recruited me six months ago. I'm sure the revered mother meant it as an insult - sending me as her messenger - and the mage picked _right_ up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it but Duncan told me we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently _they_ didn't get the same speech."

"I guess not," she eventually agreed. "I suppose we should start preparing."

"If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on."


	3. Witch of the Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daylen Amell and the other recruits head into the Wilds for their task, and encounter something they were not expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Another coming soon.

**Daylen**

Daylen had heard of apostates and maleficarum before.

As a child in the Circle, he'd learned about them in story after story. Myths, legends, cautionary tales, horrific and terrifying in their imagery. Each child grew up either being scared witless of these things, or disbelieving.

Daylen considered himself to be a mix of the two. He was most definitely wary of outside mages (apart from Grey Warden mages and others who were allowed out of the Circle), but he definitely wouldn't run away screaming if he came across one. There was a certain degree of curiosity there, as well. If he met one, he swore he'd kill them in order to protect those who did not have templar protection, but he'd always wanted to know about how they grew up. What they learned. Why they fled the Circle. 

He’d heard, briefly, of the Chasind; wild folk who lived outside of society. Some of them had apostates among them, and surely some of them were maleficarum as many of them were outside the Chantry’s supervision. It was just something he understood. 

And the Korcari Wilds were a home of such people and legends. This, he knew. All the same, it wasn’t something at the front of his mind as he came to Ostagar. Not something he even really considered. 

The main thoughts in his mind were mainly of the road. It'd been about eighteen years since he'd even been outside the tower, and even then he'd always lived among nobles. Not constantly walking down dirt roads towards Tevinter ruins. 

So he was truly distracted from any thoughts of geography, understandably. 

Upon arriving, he might have been overwhelmed, had he been less adaptable.

Even before his Harrowing (and learning of his mother's disappearance) Daylen had been preparing for this, or something similar, for a long time. He didn't have anywhere to really go, but he'd always planned to leave the Circle if he was able. The low number of mages sent to Ostagar was exactly what he needed to accomplish this. While he’d never thought about the Grey Wardens or joining their ranks, it was a good opportunity to do something great while leaving the tower. 

In his mind, joining the Wardens was just another test of skill and willpower. Surely it wouldn’t be more difficult than facing three demons in the Fade. 

As he and the other recruits headed out into the Wilds, he studied his surroundings carefully. It was bitterly cold, much like the rest of Ferelden, and as brown and green as would be expected. The trees were different, standing menacingly over the murky ponds and muddy hills. It was nearly as intimidating as what waiting for them within the Wilds. Almost as much swamp as it was a forest, it was home to wolves, giant rats, and more recently… darkspawn. All of which Daylen had never encountered before. Still, as none of them breathed fire or planned to devour his body and soul, he wasn’t all too concerned. He had faced worse; and he had faith Avina had, too.

As the first of the beasts charged, Daylen readied himself by falling back - mages rarely did very well on the front lines - and cast the first of the many spells he knew. With enough concentration, he was able to cast cone of cold into a circle around his comrades. As always, when he cast a spell, he felt the familiar drain of mana. But to his surprise, the loss was far lesser than he was expecting. When he turned to his fellow mage, only then did he realize what she had done. His body was still glowing with her recent rejuvenation spell. 

Daylen had known she was a creation and spirit spell major in her time in the Circle. Still, seeing her in action, shielding herself and attacking the enemy with ice and telekinetic force was a shock. After the calm environment of the Circle, however, he supposed it should be a surprise. 

With the aid of both a battlemage and a healer, it was exceptionally easy to make their way through the wilds. The devastating damage from Daylen left the enemy off balance, and Avina’s support strengthened the men’s close combat. 

Still… something was making him uneasy. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, and not from the chill of the forest. He felt the same during his Harrowing; he knew the feeling well.

They were being watched. He was sure of it. 

Every time he turned his head to scan the terrain, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. This didn’t comfort him; it only served to make him more paranoid until at last, they came to the ruins of what had once been a Grey Warden tower. 

The group spread out, searching around the rubble for scrolls or any paper. But there was nothing. Not a scrap, even in the broken chest at the far end of the ruin. It was empty; either destroyed, or taken by looters. 

Daylen turned his head to tell Alistair they were out of luck, but was silenced when someone else spoke.

“Well, well,” came a woman’s voice. “What have we here?”

Daylen whipped around at the unfamiliar voice, ready for an ambush, an attack… he knew it couldn’t be a soldier left alive by the darkspawn. Not here. 

But instead of an ambush, he was greeted with the sight of the most stunningly beautiful woman he’d ever seen, walking down the side of the tower and towards their group. Vaguely in the back of his mind, he remembered his training. What he’d learned of apostates, maleficarum, of Chasind folk. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. All he could do was rise to his feet and stare. 


End file.
